Craving Private Adelman
Medical/Science Center The vessel's chief medical officer and staff maintain a relatively spotless facility, with exam and operating tables, vital sign monitors and the latest in hi-tech gadgetry. Pharmaceuticals are stored in code-sealed lockers. A medical computer provides symptoms and potential diagnoses at the touch of a button. Emblazoned in red on the gunmetal gray aft bulkhead is the double-snake entwined staff known among medical practitioners as the cadeucus. Xavin enters into the medical bay with a determined stride, slowed by the weight of the atmosphere suit that encases him. His eyes sharply scan over the medics in the bay. Staunton stands at one of the display terminals flipping through screens as if looking for something. Xavin catches sight of Staunton from across the room and makes his way to her, as quickly as the space suit will allow. Hitting the red button on his wrist he speaks in a crackle of static. "Major Staunton." There is a stress of urgency to his voice. Staunton looks up from the screen. "Yes?" Xavin swallows, halting as he nears the Major. "Major, we may have a security breach regarding a missing member of the Minerva Security staff." His brow is knit beneath the helmet of the space suit. Staunton clicks the monitor off and stands. "I'm listening," she says. Xavin exhales slowly, a dull rasping noise as it passes through the ventilator, before he continues. "Major, an hour ago Private Derrick Adelman of our security team was tapped to make the peripheral rounds in the direct vicinity of the Minerva to ensure the continued safety of the ship. He has not returned." The Timonae grits his teeth. Staunton chews her bottom lip for a moment, then asks, "And this paremeter patrol. How long is it supposed to take?" Xavin raises an arm awkwardly as he responds, "My patrol yesterday took seventeen minutes, Major." He adds after a thought. "And that was considered slow." Staunton sighs deeply, the sound producing a whine from her suit's speaker. "Alright," she says, sounding resigned. "What was the last thing we heard?" Xavin shakes his head from side to side. "Private Adelman informed the security officer posted at the airlock he was making the patrol." He glances toward the digital clock on the wall of the science bay. "That was one hour and six minutes ago. I was informed of the situation and decided it would be best to inform you immediately." He pauses a moment. "It may be nothing," the Timonae offers. "Or it may be something," she says, finishing the thought. "Has anyone gone out after Adelman yet?" Porter steps into the medical/science center, his rebreather hissing. He turns somewhat clunkily within his atmosphere suit until his faceplate reflects Staunton and Xavin. He begins walking toward them. "What's new?" Xavin is standing near Major Staunton in the science wing, both in their atmosphere suits. "I thought it best to contact you, Major, before organizing a patrol." He turns towards Porter as the Colonel approaches, the muscles of his forehead pulled taught beneath the fishbowl helmet. Staunton turns toward the Colonel as he approaches. "One of our security team left for a paremeter patrol more than an hour ago," she says simply. "He hasn't returned yet. A Private Adelman." Porter tilts his head within his helmet and furrows his brow. "Did the perimeter run along the jungle?" Xavin shakes his head. "The patrol is designed to only run a check on the exterior condition of the ship and the vicinity thirty yards from it." "But given the thick underbrush on this planet, that's not to say he might not get closer to the jungle than we might like." Staunton says, eyes cast toward the floor in thought. Porter nods in agreement with the Major. "Why don't we go outside and take a look ourselves?" Xavin nods towards the Colonel, lips pursing beneath the helmet as the ventilator releases the metallic squeal of exhalation. Staunton glances down to the pistols Xavin wears strapped to his legs, then nods. "Aye, Colonel." Porter checks his wrist gauges. "I've got about 30 minutes of good air left before I have to plug back into the ionizer. Synchronize your own gauges accordingly." Xavin glances down at his wrist, his right hand crossing over to punch a sequence of buttons. "Thirty minutes, Colonel. We better make this fast." He looks up towards Staunton then turns, with some effort, toward the Commander. Staunton brings her wrist up to her faceshield, then nods curtly. "33 minutes left. Check." Turning slowly, his rebreather hissing, the colonel makes his way toward the corridor. "All right. Let's see if we can track down our wayward crewman." Xavin follows the Colonel with heavy, clanking steps. Staunton falls into step. Clad in an atmosphere suit, his rebreather hissing regularly as he walks, Porter thumps his way across the cargo hold, approaching the shuttlebay, followed by Staunton and Xavin. Xavin grabs a plasma lantern from a nearby storage crate as the three pass, the light illuminating the room fiercly as the switch is activated. Staunton's gait is unsteady and rather ungraceful in the hazard suit. Her boots clank unevenly on the metal deck. Porter presses a button that activates a decon field that sparkles in place as the landing ramp descends toward the surface of Nialesia. Warm air wafts up through the opening and causes the field to sparkle brightly here and there as it is decontaminated. Porter walks through the field and thumps down the ramp. Beach Seagulls wheel overhead, squawking noisily as they loft on the ocean breeze above the glittering greenish-blue waves of the ocean. The water laps up against a golden, sandy beach apparently undisturbed by the footsteps of others. Across the beach from the ocean is a dense jungle. Porter reaches the bottom of the ramp and steps crunchingly onto the sandy beach. His rebreather continues to hiss, but the sound is lost in the gusts of wind. He ratchets up the volume on his helmet speaker: "Can you two hear me?" Xavin glances about as he reaches the bottom of the landing pad, flashing the directed light of the plasma lantern over the nearby dunes of sand he glances towards Porter. "Barely Colonel." He speaks loudly into the microphone. Xavin reaches down, awkwardly unstrapping the scanner that clips into the security belt around the Timonae's waist. He glances down to the console. He frowns, speaking loudly as the wind snakes plumes of sand up into the air. "I have no registered signs of human life." Staunton nods. "I can hear you," she says, instinctively squinting as sand flies innefectually into her faceplate. "Did you have a regular route for the patrols, Mr. Carazz?" Porter nods slowly. He activates the lamp atop the crest of his helmet, then checks his right gauntlet. He presses a tab and causes a small panel to slide forward, revealing a switch. Still on intercom mode, the colonel says, "We're close enough that we should be able to operate using the tightbeam comms. That'll keep us from yelling or sapping the suit batteries too quickly by keeping the speakers up so loud. Activate your tightbeams and run a quick test." Staunton punches at a button with her gloved finger. "Test." Xavin punches a button on the right arm. "Check, one." Porter nods, giving a thumbs up to both Xavin and Staunton. "You're both coming through loud and clear. It should stay that way if we remain within 100 yards of each other." He looks north along the beach. "Any footprints?" Xavin rotates slowly, the light from the plasma lantern illuminating the cresting waves of the ocean as he turns. "Clockwise around the Minerva and then an extention to thirty yards moving counterclockwise in a full arc." Staunton squints at the beach. "Not in this wind," she says almost under her breath." She nods to Xavin. "Let's follow his course, then." Xavin nods, beginning the trek around the Minerva, his plasma lantern cutting a thin swath of light in front of the party, the wind only adding to the difficulty of movement. "Watch your footing as we near the ocean." Porter walks unevenly, half-dragging his feet through the rippled waves of sand that form the beach. "Easier said than done." He follows Xavin's course. Feet crunching sand beneath her, Staunton falls in behing the Timonae. "That's true. I'll have to mention this to the doctor. She's always looking for new workout regimens," she says dryly. Porter chuckles into his mic. Xavin flashes the plasma lantern to his immediate right quickly as the Timonae senses movement, but the looming sand is all that stares back. Porter stops, looking toward the sudden shift of light. "See something, Recruit?" Xavin takes another step forward, the thick sand softening the weight of the atmosphere suit. "Thought I did, Colonel. Just the sand." He continues around the base of the hull. Porter nods, then continues to follow. Staunton wordlessly plods along behind. Xavin swings the light of the lantern underneath the arch of the ship, his torso twisting to search underneath the vessel. Dissatisfied, he turns back, the beam of light shaking as he walks. Staunton lifts her knees higher, finding a stride that better suits the terrain. "How often are patrols set to make this sweep, Mr. Carazz?' Xavin plunges forward as the wind changes directions pressing against the company's movement. "Three times a day, Major. Mid-morning, afternoon, and before dusk." Xavin adds after a moment. "It's standard procedure. Even on Ungstir patrols were made twice a day, but a third was added now that the Minerva is on.. uncharted ground." Porter stops to reorient himself as a gust throws a sand devil twisting across his path, pattering the metallic hull of the Minerva. His attention drifts toward the other hulking spacecraft in the starlit shadows, and his helmet beam gleams off those hulls. "Maybe he's sitting out the storm?" "Without at least reporting back?" Staunton asks, somewhat incredulously. "He'd better hope not." Porter chuckles mordantly. "You have a point, Major." Xavin nods as he presses on. "That's my hope, Colonel." He glances down to the scanner in hand. "Still no sign of human life." Porter walks after Xavin. "Any signs of *any* life? This storm could be playing havoc with the sensors, you know." Xavin slows his pace until the Colonel is beside him. "Not getting a damned thing out of it. Except for us and the ships." He darts the plasma lantern over towards the Minerva in emphasis, then returns it to the sandy expanse ahead. Porter grimaces, swiveling his helmet as far as he can to left and right, then turning his body to take in the rest of the vista around him. "Not much to see." He turns to follow the recruit, boots sloughing up divots of sand. His wrist monitor beeps. He stops, checking the gauge. He then says, "We've got fifteen minutes, then we'll need to send out another team." Xavin reaches the landing platform of the Minerva, turning back towards the officers. "Fifteen minutes?" Staunton lifts her wrist to the faceplate of her helmet. "Maybe 15, yes." Porter nods, stopping near the base of the platform. He points with a stubby gauntlet finger at the gauge on his wrist. "Air recyclers are running on overtime as it is. They'll need to recharge for a few hours. You got any bright ideas for hunting Adelson down in a short span?" Staunton turns to face the wind, instincively raising a hand to shield against it. "I suppose bread crumbs are right out." Xavin shakes his head. "My best suggestion, Colonel, is that we head thirty yards out and see what we can see. If we can't find him we'll send another patrol out in morning." Porter nods. "Only three directions we can go unless he drowned. I'll take north. Major, you take west." He gestures east. "That way is all yours, Recruit." Xavin takes a step forward. "Yes sir." His journey is difficult, the changing wind making for constant readjustment in balance in the awkard suit. Porter slogs north along the beach, swinging his helmet back and forth to cast his suit light in a sweeping arc. Occasionally, he pauses to press a button on the chest of his suit, which broadcasts a loud "whooping" noise that increases in volume before fading out after 10 seconds. Into his mic, he says, "Use your suit klaxons, see if he responds." Staunton seems to nod from the waist. "Aye, Sir," she says, setting out over the sugary sand. Even as she makes new footprints, those recently left behind erode into the distance. "Nothing so far." Xavin activates the klaxon, sending the audial flares out across the expanse of beach and brush. His wrist rotates constantly, sending the concentraed beam of the plasma lantern across the expanse in front of him. Porter tops the crest of a sand dune about 15 yards out, scanning around through the shadowy, windswept darkness. "I'm not seeing anything except surf, sand and some trees off to the east." He kneels, shining his beam along the ridge of the dune. "Might be footprints, or they might just be irregularities in the sand." He shakes his head, then stands upright again, grunting with the effort given the weight of his atmosphere suit. "No doubt about it. I need to work out just a little bit more." Following the high beam of her helmet light, Staunton carfully makes her way over a patch of low, scrubby vegitation. Her klaxon sounds at regular intervals, serving only to underline the ragged irregularity of her breathing. "I can barely see a thing over here," she says at last. Xavin tilts the plasma lantern towards his right, the concentrated light reflecting off of an object in the darkness beyond. "Major, you see that?" Even in the metallic nature of the communication, there is a tone of excitement. Porter descends down the other side of the dune, which is higher than he is tall by a few inches, so the only evidence left of him now is the occasional shifting halo cast by his headlamp as he walks. He sounds the klaxon just as Xavin speaks, and when it dies off about 10 seconds later, he has missed the question. He says, "Still..." *static* Then, "...make out trees, not..." *static* Staunton squints in the growing darkness. "I think.." *hiss of static* "Wait. Do that again, Mr. Carazz. I thought I might have seen something." Xavin swings the lantern out towards the southern jungle, turning toward the direction of the Major. "Major, repeat th.., you're ...king up" Porter re-emerges above the crest of the northern dune, and his tightbeam signal reacquires its normal strength. "Nothing that way," he says, making his way toward the Minerva. "Any luck with you two?" Staunton waves the Colonel over, her gesture necessarily larger than life in the clunky harzard gear. "What do you make of that, Sir?" she asks pointing to the spot where Carazz's light converges with something in the distance. Xavin catches Staunton's gesture and begins to make his way towards the two commanding officers, the wind whipping sand up around his form, obscuring it briefly. As he crosses the plasma beam reflects sharply. Porter begins trodding through the swirling sand toward the spot Staunton indicated. His headlamp bobs up and down, left and right, as he walks. His rebreather hisses with the exertion. His wrist gauge beeps. "Five minutes," he mutters. "What do you have, Carazz?" Xavin glances down to his scanner as he reaches his compatriots. "Still no signs of life, Colonel. What do you make of that?" The plasma lantern pierces into the darkness. Porter steps closer to the jungle, casting the glow of his headlamp toward the shifting fronds of the alien palms. "Not part of the natural scenery, whatever it is. Scanners show anything?" Xavin shakes the small device as the storm sends the waves crashing into the coast behind them. "Not a damned thing, not even getting the two of you anymore." Porter nods, scowling. "Recruit, time's up. Something out here is screwing with the equipment. Send out another team to hunt for Adelman in the morning." Staunton again looks at the meter on her wrist and nods. "Agreed." Xavin flashes the light out towards the jungle, the reflection coming off at a forty-degree angle. "Alright, let's move." He turns, reluctantly, sliding the scanner back into his belt and starting across the sand towards the Minerva. Porter sighs, pressing the klaxon activation button on his suit once more. The "whoop" dies off, then he turns and slogs back toward the Minerva. Lifting her knees high, Staunton follows silently back to the Minerva. Xavin speaks into the telecomm as the trio approaches the ship. "VES Minerva, this is Security Grouping 1 requesting access, prepare the airlock." Porter follows Xavin toward the boarding ramp. Staunton starts up the boarding ramp, kicking sand from her boots even as she climbs toward the ship. Xavin steps up the arched footing of the boarding ramp, the airlock opening as the three approach. Porter clumps up the ramp, swinging his helmet to glance back at the jungle with his weakly gleaming headlamp. His wrist alarm beeps again, and he resumes his march aboard the Minerva. The next day security teams are dispatched. After an exhausting search one team returns with a single wire, presumably from Private Adelman's atmosphere suit. As the Nialesian sun crests over the tropical oceans, the expedition continues. Beach Seagulls wheel overhead, squawking noisily as they loft on the ocean breeze above the glittering greenish-blue waves of the ocean. The water laps up against a golden, sandy beach apparently undisturbed by the footsteps of others. Across the beach from the ocean is a dense jungle. Porter stands near the Courageous with Palin, Virvril and Falkona. He appears to be talking to Falkona. Xavin can be seen in the western distance, rising up over a large sand dune that crests over the beach. His pace is a slow trudge, the atmosphere suit clad around the thin Timonae's form of massive encumberance. Virvril stands carefully listening to all of the conversation around him, every few moments turning his head to look at each person around him in turn. Marlan comes in following Xavin. Falkona nods slowly, "Of cou'se, Colonel. I will treat you'a crewmen... as I would my own. Granted that says vera' little." She smiles weakly and nods a bit. Xavin glances back towards the Doctor before pressing on, nearly loosing his footing as the dune slants sharply downward. He presses caution for the remainder of the descent. Marlan is dressed in an orange containment suit, visor darkened against the sun. Porter tilts his head in acknowledgement to the commodore, then glances toward the approaching Minerva crew. He tightbeams: "Recruit Carazz, any sign of Adelman?" Xavin adjusts the volume lever on the helmet of his protective suit, clearing his throat in a static-bound revirberation before speaking into the internal-microphone of the tightbeam link. "Two search parties dispatched earlier, Colonel. Just went out to have a peek myself. Found a crewman, but not Adelman." He flashes a thumb back towards the containment suit as he nears Porter. "Doctor Ranix." He explains. Xavin nears Porter. He looks exhausted with thin creases in the Timonae's smooth front and bags hang underneath his eyes as crimson as the skies of Antimone itself. Porter nods, looking toward Marlan. "Doctor. I looked over your medical report. I told Doctor Palin that the two of you can take whatever portable equipment you can from Minerva's scientific facilities. Commodore Devoras will provide transportation back to Sivad once you've all resolved this matter." He looks back at Xavin and asks, "Haven't you gotten any rest since Adelman vanished?" Marlan nods, "Aye, Sir. Figured you'd say that..already started moving equipment out." Falkona turns and moves off toward the Courageous, speaking quietly to a Specialist, who then rushes inside. Xavin tilts his head. "I'm as fine as the Lady herself, Colonel. Place your concerns in Adelman." His voice is quiet, despite the high setting of the microphone. Porter furrows his brow, then looks toward Virvril. "Sir, I'm not too familiar with Nall physiology, but I seem to recall your people have an enhanced sense of smell. Is that correct?" Marlan spots Palin and steps off towards him, She says, "nyetski ogrog sousuier yargh blug-blug" Palin turns to look towards Marlan with an eyebrow raised. He says, "shorshk yargh agrun" Marlan's face is all but invisible behind the darkened face plate, She says, "erumuten shorshk ung-ung ung-ung ogrog agrun agrun ugh nyetski kevkiev korfka gorg kevkiev ogrog agrun shorshk myork" Virvril looks to Porter, and nods with a soft thsssss. "Yesssss we do, as well as more acute visssion than humanssssss...." Porter lets his hands dangle at his sides, then looks from Virvril to Xavin. "Do you have any personal effects belonging to Private Adelman?" Xavin reaches down to his utility belt, withdrawing a thin gold wire from the smaller pocket. "This was found by the first security team earlier today, Colonel, near the area we explored last night." He extends his arm towards Porter. "It's Adelman's." His face is locked and the words come out deftly. Palin nods slighlty, thoughtfully. He says, "sousuier yargh ugh kevkiev nyetski myork Marlan nods, She says, "nyetski blug-blug yargh ung-ung erumuten yargh por ung-ung erumuten erumuten nyetski ugh blug-blug sousuier korfka sousuier sousuier korfka sousuier ogrog yargh" Porter nods, taking the wire in his gloved hand. He then offers it to Virvril. "Can you detect a scent on this, sir?" Virvril reaches up and with a gentle twist, removes his helmet which hisses softly as the air escapes. He sets it down on the ground, then reaches for the wire. Taking it carefully, he holds it up to his nose, and sniffs it several times.... Virvril sniffs a few more times, then lets out a sharp thssssss. "It doessss indeed sssssmell with the ssssscent of a sssssoftssssskin." Palin nods slightly. He says, "ung-ung erumuten erumuten nyetski shorshk korfka kevkiev erumuten myork ugh korfka korfka por sousuier ung-ung shorshk sousuier agrun myork ugh" Marlan nods, She says, "agrun por erumuten myork korfka ung-ung nyetski nyetski myork sousuier sousuier blug-blug erumuten shorshk ugh gorg" Xavin watches the Nall for a long moment, steel-blue orbs tracing over the creature's scaly skin; darting tongue. At the Nall's words he redirects back towards Porter. Palin shakes his head. He says, "sousuier nyetski gorg ogrog sousuier ugh nyetski ugh por gorg" Porter glances back toward Xavin. "The Colonel can now help in the search. Maybe he'll have better luck tracking our missing crewman." Xavin nods curtly towards his commanding officer. "I'll hope for that." Marlan appears visibly upset as she makes a rather loud excalamtion, She says, "shorshk ung-ung sousuier korfka blug-blug myork agrun" Palin reaches a hand up to holds the place his chin would be if an atmosphere suit weren't in the way. As soon as his gloved hand collides with the faceplate he frowns and drops his arm back to his side. He says, "shorshk ogrog por sousuier sousuier kevkiev blug-blug gorg agrun ogrog ogrog ogrog ung-ung gorg kevkiev yargh agrun sousuier kevkiev" Marlan shakes her head, turning to head back towards the village, She says, "sousuier ung-ung agrun ugh nyetski por erumuten por" Porter turns toward Virvril. "Colonel, any suggestions for our first direction?" Palin nods as he follows Marlan without much pause to speak to anyone else around him. Xavin glances down to the digital watch built into the atmosphere suit. Frowning, he turns to meet the Colonel's eyes. "What does our time on Nialesia look like?" Virvril kneels down on the beach, and scoops up a handfull of sand. He sniffs it carefully... Porter returns his attention to the Timonae. "Recruit, we're not going anywhere until Adelman is accounted for. Val Shohob will wait." Xavin nods, relief easing the tensed muscles in his face with a new vitality. "Thank you, Colonel." The Timonae's voice is firm. Virvril drops the sand slowly. "The sssssscent goessss into the jungle beyond...." Xavin frowns, pressing a button on the sleeve of his suit and speaking into the internal microphone. "The security protocol is merely to examine the perimeter of the ship, not search the surrounding areas." He looks down towards the reptilian. "You're sure, Colonel?" Virvril nods with a soft thssssss, "The ssssscent issss ssssstrong, it leadssss into the jungle." Porter smiles slightly, then speaks via tightbeam. "You heard the Colonel, Recruit. I trust his instincts." He moves to trudge after the Nall. Virvril rises up and begins to head in that direction, stepping carefully, tensed like a predator ready to strike. Xavin follows the two officers, his gate steady as the Timonae's long legs carry him slowly over the dunes of sand. Porter makes his way down the jungle path, his rebreather hissing every few seconds. He turns his head slowly, gazing through the faceplate at the surrounding vegetation. Xavin reaches down unstrapping the holstered twin pistols from their graves at his thighs. Clutching the weapons awkwardly with the burly gloving of the suit his eyes trace briefly over the canopy before returning to the immediate vicinity surrounding the search team. Virvril kneels down in a section of the path, and sniffs the air carefully. He pulls up a leaf that has fallen on the path, and sniffs it also. He looks down towards the dense jungle beyond. "The trail continuesssss on into the deep jungle...." Xavin presses on, a half-pace behind the officers in flanking positions, stepping over a fallen branch that breaks away from the trail. "Your right Colonel," the Timonae sends in a tightbeam transmission. "The foliage is broken here." Virvril seems to shiver under the warmth of the air hear, enjoying the thick mist. "Thisssss isssss almosssst like home...." A brightly colored macaw launches from a nearby tree down through the jungle air in a deft swoop. Xavin turns his pistols quickly at the noise of the bird's cries, exhaling slightly as he realizes the lack of a threat. Virvril snaps his head towards the sound with a sharp thsssss.... Porter reaches for the button on his suit that activates the "whooping" klaxon. Xavin lowers the external volume of his headset as the klaxon sets in, stepping a few paces forward. "See anything?" Porter clomps through the foliage, his rebreather hissing as he looks around, his surroundings reflected in the glass of his faceplate. Xavin pierces his lips, as his eyes attempt to pierce through the density of the tropical foliage. The Timonae's forehead is damp with perspiration. Virvril continues to sample the air carefully..."The sssscent turnsssss north here...." Xavin turns instinctively over his left shoulder, pressing northward. As he reaches the massive remains of a fallen tree, he pauses, taking a long moment to gather his footing as he climbs over the fallen flora. Porter pushes through a spindly bush, making his way north through the mist. Jungle Almost uncomfortably warm, a fine mist seems to hang perpetually in the air, fog-like in the stray beams of sunlight that crawls across the loamy jungle floor. Rustling sounds might be heard all around, along with the chirp of bird calls and other animals...and the occasional roar of a hunting predator. While there is usually a constant background noise, occasionally the jungle would fall eerily silent as it senses something stalking nearby. Vines and large, leafy fronds perpetually try to insert themselves in the spaces beneath the trees. Porter tromps through the jungle, brushing aside a snake that dangles languidly from a branch. His rebreather continues to hiss. He looks around, eyes narrowing as he tries to make out shapes through the leaves and mist. The scanner on Xavin's belt sends a dull beeping through the audial vents of the atmosphere suits. A red light atop the device flashes in bright pulses. "Commander, I may have something." He reaches down for the scanner. Virvril turns towards Xavin. "Report..." Porter stops, looking toward Xavin. "That's good news, Recruit." Xavin glances over the scanner his lips pursing. "I have something here.. life signs of a male humanoid, directly north." He takes a step forward but stops mid-stride. "Dammit, I've lost him." He glances up towards the Colonel. Porter jerks his hand toward the north. "Not for long. Come on." He turns and trudges that direction. Virvril sniffs...."Yessss....the sssscent is much ssssstrnger, from the north..." Stream Almost uncomfortably warm, a fine mist seems to hang perpetually in the air, fog-like in the stray beams of sunlight that crawls across the loamy jungle floor. Rustling sounds might be heard all around, along with the chirp of bird calls and other animals...and the occasional roar of a hunting predator. While there is usually a constant background noise, occasionally the jungle would fall eerily silent as it senses something stalking nearby. Vines and large, leafy fronds perpetually try to insert themselves in the spaces beneath the trees. A gentle stream flows here, its cool rushing water a mild relief to the rest of the jungle. While moss grows on many of the rocks around here and the occasional plant grows in the river, the water appears fairly clear and clean. Porter steps down the slope of the streambank, his rebreather now nearly drowned out by the gurgling of the stream. Xavin nearly stumbles from the footing of the jungle floor into the stream that cuts through in a surprising gesture. Balancing his weight he slides down the streambank after the Colonel. On the far bank, a swarm of flies and larger flying insectoids dance around a littered object of a dull cobalt blue. Xavin takes a step into the stream to stand beside Porter. The water is shallow near the enbankment, coming only to the Timonae's upper ankle. Virvril begins to tread carefully towards the object, using his sharp clawed feet to keep a good grip on the river's rocks.. Porter stares across the bank at the bug-attracting object. "Adelman!?" he calls out over his intercom speaker. Xavin follows the Colonel's gaze, his face dropping at the sight across the river bank. Stumbling, he presses into the stream, the water rising to the Timonae's upper thighs. Porter steps back and looks down. "Recruit...something in the water." Virvril continues wading over towards the other bank, the water reaching up to his chest... Xavin spins around in an awkward motion, nearly loosing his footing on the moss-covered river bottom. He aims the twin pistols down to the easy wake of the stream, eyes wide. "What'd you see, Commander?" He asks fiercly. Porter shakes his head. "Didn't see anything...just felt something." Virvril pauses, nearly out to the center of the stream, and turns back towards Porter. "What do you believe you felt...." Virvril looks down into the water, "Yesssss....I have jussssst felt it now...." The breathing of the Timonae has become rapid, the ventilator vocalizing the quick inhalations in metallic wheezing. Porter kneels on the edge of the stream, reaching toward the water with a gloved hand. The glimmering surface, just inches away. Virvril looks towards the bank Porter is on, then towards the bank the object is on, and begins to trudge towards the insect covered object, apparently deciding he might as well continue since he's come this far already.... Xavin stands near the stream center, the water at waist-line. His torso turns from the Nall further ahead to watch Porter at the nearer bank. Virvril continues trudging for the bank, almost within reach of it. Porter tilts his head, then reaches into the water, trying to clutch whatever lies beneath. Xavin watches his commanding officer for a long moment, then turns, heading towards the Nall as the water deepens. Virvril reaches the other bank, and climbs up out of the water. With a carefully organized shaking pattern, he shakes off the water clinging to him. Opening the waterlogged suit, he removes it, and tosses it aside, straightening his uniform. Virvril walks over to the object, and looks down. He sniffs, and then looks to the other two. "It isssss Adelman...at leassst what issss left of him....." Porter searches around under the water, then glances toward Virvril. "Damn," he mutters. "Can you tell what happened?" Xavin swallows hard, quickening his steady trudge against the flow of the stream towards the opposing bank. "What was the damn fool doing out here?" He mutters to himself, underneath the fishbowl of his helmet. Virvril kneels down to examine the body... Porter clenches his jaw and widens his eyes a little, instinctively trying to yank his hand back. Trying to maintain some semblance of cool, he says over his shoulder, "Problem." Virvril looks to Porter, "What issss it?" Xavin raises himself up the embankment on the far side of the stream, his boots imprinting the muddy bank. He approaches the Nall but turns as the lizard speaks, looking back towards Porter. Virvril looks down at Adelman, and notes the missing arm, then looks back at Porter, "Do you need assissssstanccce?" Porter nods, continuing to try to tug his arm out of the water. Whatever has him has something else in mind, however. Porter drops to one knee as the creature yanks back and begins to head upstream. He starts flailing with his left arm toward the shore, trying to grab onto a rock or a low-hanging branch. Virvril pulls out a small pistol from his uniform belt, and takes careful aim at the water, watching carefully for tell-tale signs of the location of his target.... Xavin curses over the tightbeam transmission in Timonese, leaping from the other bank into the water below. Due to the weight of the atmosphere suit, however, the movement is sparse of any grace, the surface tension of the water breaking with a corroding splash. Wiping streaks of water from the glass encasement of the face, Xavin starts back towards the other bank. "Commander!" Porter finds nothing to hold onto, and plunges in an ungainly belly flop into the water, bobbing because of the air in his suit. He speaks in the tightbeam mic: "I didn't come all this way to be dinner for an alien snake..." Virvril kneels down, and places both hands on the grip of the pistol, trying to steady his aim. Carefully, he squeezes off a round... Porter hears the shot and ducks his head beneath the rippling surface. While he has his head underwater, Porter tries to get a good look at the beast he's up against. As the shot is fired into the ruddy jungle river, a shape leaps from the water. It is serpentine, perhaps five, perhaps ten yards high as it straightens upward with a grazing wound, releasing the coiled hold on the Lt. Col. Porter snaps his arm back out of reach and then gets as quickly to his feet as he can in the lumbering suit, and upon hearing more shots, he does what comes naturally to a trained soldier - he dives toward the shore he came from, ducking and rolling. Xavin squeezes the trigger of each pistol quickly as the serpent sails from the water, stumbling a few feet backward in the recoil of the weapons. Virvril doesn't raise the pistol, instead keeping it trained on the snake as it thrashes, waiting for the chance to fire again if necessary... Xavin turns his head back towards the serpent as the two energy pulses slam through the midsection of the jungle snake, creating a triangle with the grazing wound from the Nall's weapon. Porter doesn't succeed in doing much more than plopping down on the shore and sprawling, his helmet coming loose with a crunch and a hiss. "Goddammit," the colonel mutters, looking back toward the serpent. "What the hell is that thing?" Xavin inhales sharply, a thin rasp from the ventilator alerting his compatriots to his breathing pattern. The pistols scan over the expanse of water slowly. The serpent bubbles up towards the surface, streaks of red tainting the stream. Virvril says with a thssssss...."Dinner....." Porter shakes his head, removing the helmet since any contamination has already occurred, and glowers at the hulking serpent shape bleeding in the stream. "I make it a point never to eat anything that tries to eat me." Xavin eyes the floating being warily as it bumps against the tropical driftwood that has caught on a root that protrudes from the bank. Stepping downstream, he makes tentative steps toward Porter. "Commander?" The Timonae's hands are trembling. Virvril holsters the weapon. "Sincccce it wasssss not attempting to devour me, I am quite content to devour it...." He reaches out carefully and grasps a tail end of the snake, dragging it ashore... Porter gets to his feet, cradling the helmet under his right arm, and massaging the right wrist with his left hand. He nods to Xavin. "I'm all right. Nice shooting." Xavin carefully makes his way to the southern shore, climbing up next to Porter. "Lucky shots." He responds, fastning the pistols to the damp leather of the thigh-holsters. Virvril pulls up the tail the snake, opens wide, and proceeds to tear off a sizeable chunk. He chews with great satisfaction, blood and bits of scales dripping from his mouth onto the floor..."Delicioussssss....." As the Nall drags the snake to shore, the sheer enormity of the behemoth creeps to realization. It is well over twenty feet and as thick around as a Zangali's tibia. Near the midsection of the snake, a foot away from the gaping holes is a large, arm-shaped bulge. Porter winces as he watches the Nall embark on his culinary experiment, then quickly returns his attention to the Timonae. "Xavin, you told me when you wanted this job that you could shoot. You just proved it." He smiles slightly, then looks back through the jungle. "Adelman wandered all this way...wound up snake food." He frowns. "I'm not going to like writing this letter home." Xavin grits his teeth, exhaustion setting in on his face as the adrenaline seeps away. "Question I have is why the damn fool decided he had better run security on a foreign jungle." He swallows before adding. "Poor bastard." Virvril pulls off a thick branch from a nearby tree, and coils up the snake on it, hanging it off his shoulder. "Thisssss ssssshall make quite a feasssst for later. I sssssee it asssss a way to gain revenge for Adelman'sssss death, as it in turn becomes a meal of itsssself." Porter nods to Xavin. "All right. Secure his remains and get him aboard the ship. I suppose now we can head off to Val Shohob." Xavin hesitates a moment, glancing back toward the depths of the river. "Yes sir." He agrees, starting down the bank and pressing through the cascading waters. Porter takes one last look across the stream at the remains of Private Adelman, shakes his head, scowls, and then turns and presses back through the misty jungle. "See you back on the ship, Recruit." category:Classic OtherSpace Logs